Sick Day
by JLo10131121
Summary: PWP Tumblr Prompt - Regina has a wet dream. Double points if Robin is beside her in bed. Outlaw Queen to the end.


**Author's Note: **Prompt on Tumblr - Regina has a wet dream about Robin. Double points if he's next to her in bed. Well here it is. On another note, I tried to finish Chapter 10 before leaving for Dragon Con this Thursday, but that's looking like that's not going to happen. So, you get a smut biscuit instead. Enjoy.

* * *

Regina looks at her watch for the 50th time, impatiently tapping her foot, watching the arrivals, looking for him. Robin Hood was on his way back from a trip to Delaware. He'd gone to a law enforcement symposium on behalf of Emma and David, who'd not been able to make it. As only the second deputy in the town, he had been selected to go in their stead.

Regina missed him terribly.

Robin had been gone for ten days now, and though they'd tried to talk every night, he'd inevitably gone "out with the boys" as he told her a few nights before. She'd heard the relaxation and laughter in his voice the last time they'd talked, which had been about three nights ago. It had warmed her heart to know he was settling in with other agents and police and she'd smirked as she told him goodnight and to hurry home because she missed him.

And _fuck_ she misses him. Regina shifts and has to draw a breath at the light ache it started as the seam of her jeans rubbed against her skin, acutely reminding her of the reason she _misses _her boyfriend. Deeply.

They'd been together now for over seven months, and in that period, they'd grown accustomed to each other, the sex amazing, but nowhere as frequent as when they'd first started dating. At that time, they had sex every day. Five times a day. And then it had tapered off to a few times a day…then once a day….and now?

A few times a week.

Just before he left, they'd been lying in bed, Robin snuggled up against her naked, and he'd nuzzled her neck through her hair gently, teasingly. It had been early morning, around 6am and she'd seen the sun beginning to peak through the darkness. "Sweet," Robin had murmured, and licked his tongue against her neck, hunching his hips against her ass and rubbing his length against the softness there.

Regina had moaned lightly in protest, snuggling deeper into the covers, the warm bed, and his arms. She knew what he wanted – _her. But she was so comfortable. _And besides, didn't he need to be getting up to get ready to leave in about—she blearily blinked at the alarm clock—an hour and a half? Gently rebuffing him, she'd murmured, "Get in that shower, Mister. You have to be at the airport in less than two hours."

He'd groaned, hating that there wasn't enough time, that she wasn't in the mood, and hauled himself out of bed. "Love, if I didn't have to be in Delaware in four hours…." The threat hung empty in the air and Regina smiled lazily. "Mark my words, you'll be missing me."

"Yeah, yeah," she'd teased and snuggled back into her pillow, sleep calling her name. Besides, there'd be time when he got back…

Regina almost whimpers at the remembrance. Time when he got back… She'd grown too complacent. She's eating her words now. It is the longest they've been apart since they first started seeing each other, _ten days. _It hadn't seemed like such a long time at first, but then she'd begun to miss his presence, the feel of his chest hot against her back, the weight of his arm across her waist, sometimes resting there, sometimes navigating up to curve over one breast protectively in the night, to which she'd wake up in the morning because a thumb would start rubbing rhythmically against her nipple.

And her libido, which had begun to taper off before he left, came roaring back and she started to ache for him deep inside. Her clit grew swollen and needy and clothes began to feel too confining and incredibly hot. And then their evening conversations about important stuff turned into late night phone sex and God _damn _he had an incredibly sexy voice when he was worked up, but it sounded even more husky and smooth and liquid sex when her only sense of him was hearing. And it all started on day three of the conference.

And by day eight of that damned conference, her hands weren't enough. They weren't long enough, thick enough, hot enough to satisfy her and more than once she'd broken off their 'chats' to his deep and satisfied moan because her body was strummed tighter than damned violin strings with no relief. The feel of her own touch (when it should have been enough) _wasn't. _Her body knew the difference between Robin and her touch and it wouldn't be satisfied with anything less than prime Grade-A British until _now. _Because today is the day her lover is coming home and she feels the liquid slide of heat warm her sex in response to that thought and her cheeks flush red, at both the sexual thought and slight embarrassment. She is in the airport, small though it may be, after all.

When she'd woken up this morning, the sun had shone brighter, the air had smelled fresher, and her step was oh so much more peppy than her normal practical, forceful, no-nonsense stride. Because she was gettin' some tonight! And with that thought in mind, she'd put on her newest teddy, lacy and deep red, and though it feels a bit uncomfortable now, she had thought he'd appreciate she'd been wet for hours when he got her out of it later. Just a bit longer and then she could have her Robin-treat she'd been craving worse than chocolate.

XoXo

Robin wheels his suitcase through the airport slowly, glacially so. His head pounds relentlessly, he can't breathe for the mucus clogging his nose, and his chest feels like an avil is suspended on it. Limbs feel weak and achy all at once and bloody hell, as a result of the medicine he'd taken this morning one of the guys had recommended, something called Dayquil? (Or was it Nyquil?), he feels like a damned sod in his cups. Uncoordinated, slow, and sleepy. He should never have gone out with them the last two nights in a row and stayed out until the wee hours. Maybe he'd have been able to fight off whatever he had by today, or at least without taking that cherry-flavored alcohol liquid that still made him shudder to think of its taste.

Just when he thinks he'll never make it through the terminal, he looks up blearily and thinks he makes out Regina running toward him. And as the warm, solid weight of her wraps itself around him, Robin stumbles quite a bit, and she almost knocks him over, and would have if she hadn't swiftly grabbed his shirt, righting his footing. "Miss me?" she murmurs and then kisses him hard, lips parted and tongue searching. Robin's breath stutters in surprise and for a second, he panics because he can't breathe. "What?" Regina asks in confusion, breaking the kiss off at his look and barely registers the cherry flavor of his mouth.

"I have a cold," he tries to say, but he was pretty sure it came out as, "I hab a code."

"What?" Regina repeats and his cold-addled brain thinks he detects a bit of disappointment and disbelief.

"I caught a code jus' b'fore I lef'," he explains.

One perfectly arched brow rises in disbelief and then falls as she takes in the state of things – the slightly red-tinted nose, hazy eyes, disheveled hair, and the faint scent of cherries from his breath, not to mention, the taste of them from their all too brief (from her point of view) kiss.

"And what have you taken to get over it?" she asks.

Robin reaches into a jacket pocket and pulls out two containers.

"Which one? The Dayquil or Nyquil?" Regina queries, taking and examining them.

He squints at the bottles now in her hands. "Um, I think the one on the right, but I'm not sure. I feel quite sleepy."

He'd motioned to the Dayquil, but if the look in his eyes is any indication, it is the Nyquil he'd taken by accident. Fuck. She feels his forehead. A little warm. But it's a cold, not the flu. Not malaria. It would forever mystify her that a grown man could turn into a complete baby at the first sign of a fever.

"Can you take care of me when we get home?" he asks as he watches her grab his suitcase and wheels it out, his feet shuffling slightly behind her.

"Oh I'll take care of you," he hears her murmur, but Regina's tone of voice is not what he'd hoped. He can't quite place it though. Oh, well, he shrugs internally, as long as the love of his life nurses him to health, he'd be finnnneeeeee.

The walk to the car is uneventful, except for the fact Regina has to continually slow her pace since he walks at a snail's pace. Finally they reach the Mercedes and after loading his suitcase, she smoothly enters, starts the car. He's still standing behind the trunk. "Robin!" Regina calls in exasperation. Seriously, what's with him? It's _just _a cold.

Robin snaps out of his daze and shuffles over to the passenger side, opening the door, but misjudges and smacks his head against the frame. She winces in sympathy. That's got to hurt.

Robin rubs his forehead. He is sure, he thinks, that it would smart like a bitch if he were a bit more lucid, but as it is, because he's taken some really good stuff, he's a mite off his game and feeling not much pain beyond the throbbing in his head as a result of the fever he's still sporting. Carefully getting into the car, he rests against the headrest and closes his eyes for a moment.

By the lack of coordination, no depth perception, and the blown pupils, Regina surmises Robin may have taken a bit more of that cold medicine than the recommended dose. "Just how much of that medicine did you take?" Regina asks suspiciously.

"Hmm?" he murmurs blearily and opens his eyes, brain registering her question a few seconds later. "About…this much?" He gestured with his thumb and forefinger and indicates a few inches.

"Inches?!" Regina yells incredulously. "Robin, that's enough to clear an orc's sinuses!"

He shrugs helplessly. "I thought doubling the dose would make it work in half the time."

"Robin, I hope you have fast kidneys," Regina murmurs in consternation, shifting into reverse and glancing behind to watch for idiot drivers as she backs out. Or there would be problems.

The drive passes quickly, at least, it seems to for Robin as he's just watching the scenery. It's now that he remembers just how much he has missed his girlfriend and reaches over a hand to ease onto her knee and nuzzles her neck, head on her shoulder. But his coordination isn't what it usually is and so his hand lands a bit higher than he aims, on her upper thigh, just slightly under her skirt, and he hears a quiet moan. Her body seems to vibrate, tension in every line, and he thinks she doesn't like the touch, so he begins to ease away. Only to have her hand land sharply on his and not only encourage it to stay in place, but to move up a bit higher. He sighs contently, nose pressed into her neck, nuzzling gently, and gives her thigh a soft squeeze of affection before he lets the motion of the car lull him into Sandman territory.

He's asleep. He's asleep, is all she can think furiously. Damn it! She'd hoped he'd begun to realize just how much she'd missed him when she'd felt the calloused fingers stroking her inner thigh, the way he'd nuzzled her neck. She could now feel the gentle warm and moist exhales, regular against her skin, that signifies he is out for the rest of the drive. The dead weight of his fingers against her thigh are not what she imagined when he finally got his hands on her. Leaving his hand right where it is, even if it was a tortuous tease, Regina shifted a bit and felt the snaps on her teddy press just right against her. The ride home just got bearable.

Regina nudges him awake when they get to her house and she helps him in the door, up the stairs, and into the bedroom. Henry's away at Emma's and for (what she had thought was) good reason. Roland is staying at his mother's house and Regina has plans for today that sure as hell aren't getting spoiled. Not on her watch. She leaves him waiting in the doorway of the bedroom, propped against the wall, and turns down the bed. Turning to him, she leads him to the bedside, and begins the process to get Robin out of his clothes. He doesn't resist. He helps a bit, but at this point, he's more hindrance than help and she nudges his hands away. He seems content to let her take the lead and soon enough she's kneeling in front of him, tugging down his pants and eying the goods. She can see he's at about half-mast and she feels that low down tug of arousal at the sight. God he's a sight for sore eyes!

Robin allows her to push him down to the soft bed, arranging his limbs and guide his head to the soft, soft pillow, and then watches as she shrugs off her blouse and slides off her skirt. No thigh highs today, he notes absently, but definitely takes notice when he realizes she is wearing a lace teddy he's never seen before. Red is definitely her color. "Just relax and I'll take care of you," Regina murmurs intimately and straddles his hips. But he doesn't know what she thinks she's going to accomplish today. He's not up to his usual acrobatics and he needs nurse Regina not Nurse Regina.

He feels her soft lips peppering kisses down across his face, deftly avoiding his lips—wisely, he thinks, because as much as he knows she wants to kiss him and he wants to be kissed, she doesn't need to catch what he has—before moving down. He feels the slick touch of her tongue down his neck and he shivers a bit before she moves down to his chest, nipping and soothing the reddened skin there. She moves down his torso to what she affectionately calls his 'happy trail' and licks at the crease above his groin on his right hip, wiggling that gifted tongue gently there, and suddenly he's perking up, amazingly enough. He may not have enough muscle control to actively participate in this round, but it looks like he will be able to rise to the occasion.

He watches blearily, trying to blink his eyes enough to focus, to watch as she tugs his boxers down and off and then rears back up to lick him from root to tip and although he may be drunk on cold medicine, it sure as hell doesn't blunt the electric sensation of her mouth on his cock, which only grows more intense as she takes him into her mouth, sucking gently. He's moaning continuously in seconds, tremors taking over, and he's a bit embarrassed at how quick he's reached his breaking point, but he is sick to be fair, and so his control is mostly gone.

She seems to realize just how close he is because Regina lets go of him, watching as he bobs gently in the air and he shivers at the coolness against his slick length before his attention is diverted to Regina's hand as it unsnaps the teddy at the crotch and she's bare. She's bare and by his glazed eyes, even he can see she's ready for him. Regina eases over him and allows his length to slip in slowly, deliciously slow. She closes her eyes and so does he and so all he can feel is the heat and wet of her. His eyes open when he feels a weight against his chest and it's her hands bracing themselves against him as she begins to rock and rock, faster and faster, and he doesn't know if it's how incredibly sexy she looks, that black teddy still on her body, her breasts almost overflowing the top, tips pointed and probably aching for his touch, the consistent liquid slide of her over him, or the fact he was three sheets to the wind before they began the calisthenics, but his control is gone and he surges into her with one burst of energy and comes, and then comes down and all too quickly falls asleep.

Regina is still moving against him, grinding down on his softening erection when she realizes he's out like a light. Down for the count. Completely gone. He's checked out early without paying the bill, not even a credit card. And she could scream. She was _so close. My God, she was so close. _Damn it! Only a few more minutes, please God, just a few more minutes, she prays, urging her hips against his, but it only permits him to slip out of her, too soft to stay inside and a whimper, undignified and desperate slips out. Nooooooo, she cries inside and collapses to the side then rolls to her back, her body still trembling and hungry for him. Fingers run down her body, circle her aching clit, but it's not enough. It only makes the ache worse and she can't take it. Turning onto her side, she rocks a bit, trying to ease the pounding frustration and finally stills, realizing nothing but time would relieve the ache. Damn it, Robin, she thinks. The frustration turns to anger and she gets up, strips the teddy off. What a waste of $200, she thinks sourly, and after cleaning off both of them—last thing she needs is to feel his slick dick reminding her of what she _didn't _get—tumbles back into bed, flushed and needy, next to an equally flushed—but no longer needy—Robin of Locksley. Jesus fucking Christ, he is going to pay, she thinks. He owes me massively.

Maybe he'll wake up in the middle of the night ravenous for her, Regina thinks and feels him snuggle up behind her, one hand reaching to curve around her breast, nose nuzzling her neck, thigh nudging between hers, pressing the hair on it teasingly against her sex. A whimper escapes and she can't help it when his thumb absently rubs against her nipple. "Robin?" she whispers, and encourages his hand to move to her hip.

XoXoXo

Robin awakens a bit, to hear a whimper in front of him, and he vaguely remembers Regina rocking over him and him leaving the party before she'd gotten her dance, something he'd never done before—she always came, frequently more than twice in a session—but he was so incredibly tired and had zero self-control. His ego had stopped issuing directions more than 24 hours ago and his brain had been controlled by his Id for that time. He issued a command to his hand and his fingers moved to pat her fur reassuringly. "I'll make it up to you when I'm sober," he murmurs and feels her go still.

"Robin?" he hears her ask, a hopeful note in her tone.

"Hmmm?" he asks, half asleep already.

"Robin?" He doesn't respond and then feels a sharp pain in his ribs.

"Ouch!"

"Could you just….? Please? Give me five minutes!" Her voice sounds pleading and desperate and not a little bit pissed off and he fires his neurons to process and sympathy allows him to try to work his hand. Coordination isn't his best suit right now, but he is sure he can do something to give her relief. His woman shouldn't have to go to bed unsatisfied and with that in mind, he goes to town. He wiggles them further in and finds her soaked and hot and hears the throaty moan issued from her that never fails to make him shiver, regardless of his health or the amount of alcohol he has when he goes out gallivanting with the boys. He hears her breath increase, faster and faster, more and more shallow, becoming raspier and he can feel she is close, the way she is trembling and the tension in her body.

XoXoXo

His hands are moving quite a bit slower than normal, but she can work with it, and the pressure is incredible, just right. Just perfect and his fingers slip inside a bit and she can feel herself clenching on him, those electric pulses beginning to race through her, almost there, almost there, almost th—

His hand falls still, inside her still, but not moving, not by a long shot. Regina rocks her hips in encouragement, but he's stopped completely and she has a horrible, terrible thought. She glances back at him and his face, that beautiful face, is relaxed in sleep, breaths evened out, lips parted and slack, and a short scream issues from her throat, but that does nothing to wake him. And as close as she is, even the touch of her own fingers isn't enough because her body knows the difference and it doesn't want any substitutions. It wants him.

She rolls to her back and stares at the ceiling. Why, God? Why? I've been good. Found my love for Henry, reached and worked light magic. Defeated evil time and again over the last two years. Haven't I earned my happy ending? she thinks miserably.

To hell with it. She's tired. Tired of trying. Tired of not coming to attempt to come. Hopefully by morning, Robin will have worked the cold medicine from his system and he will be cognizant enough to attend to her needs. Rolling towards him, Regina rests her head against his chest and feels the thub-thud of his heart and allows that to lull her to a fitful, if not restful, sleep.

Fitful for a reason.

It's some time later (or maybe it's mere seconds, she doesn't really know) when the dream starts. He's awake and his fingers are trailing across her back teasingly before they curve and she feels the scrape of his nails and the heat from between their bodies is incredible. His touch is purposeful and full of promise and damn it's all she can do to stop the grateful whimper from emerging because she is a queen and queens do not whimper in gratitude. He should be grateful she's allowed him anywhere near her after the hell he has put her through before she went to sleep.

He's hard against her hip and she thinks she awakens a little. (She's sleeping and knows it, but damn it feels so good she doesn't want to wake because some part of her remembers just how out of it Robin is and if she awakens she'll lose the delicious sensations coursing through her.) Regina allows herself to be moved because hey, if it's a dream, it's _her _dream and she could use a little passive gratification after she made him come (unintentionally of course) yesterday and she didn't even get _one. _She feels him roll her over, boneless, and then she feels the heavy weight of his body against hers and that damned whimper does break free because she missed him and not just the sex (though she missed that sorely!) but also the feel of him against her and he feels soooooo. Damned. Good.

A warm sucking mouth attaches itself to her nipple and worries it, licks, nibbles, scrapes of his teeth, and the soft tissue pearls for him and she reaches a hand down, threads her fingers into his hair and tugs on the silky strands there. Feels a hot hand cup the other breast and begin to knead it as it's brother skates down her torso, skims, her belly, and heads straight for where she's hot, soaking wet (still), and waiting for him. Regina moans at the fullness she feels when he pushes two fingers inside and clenches in welcome, so close to coming it'd be embarrassing and pathetic if she wasn't so hot for him. He moves them back and forth for several seconds, his palm cupping her mons, rotating against her clit, and she's _there, _so close, so close she can taste it…

But he pulls away. Son of a bitch! What kind of dream is this?! she thinks deliriously. Surely not a dream, but a nightmare. The tide turns when she realizes he's moving up, shuffling onto his knees for leverage and bracing one of his hands on the mattress beside her head. And please, please, please God let this be it! And Robin pushes inside slowly, hard, silky, and hungry for her, but not as hungry as she is for him! "Yes," she hisses quietly, head straining up to watch the carnality of their bodies joining, and brings her hands up to tangle in his hair, but he doesn't let her, pulls them back and against the bed above her head, fingers twinned with hers, braced hard on the surface for balance. She can't move them, he's got her pinned, but somehow it's so incredibly hot and delicious and Jesus fucking Christ, she can't take much more of this.

Robin swoops down, takes her mouth, and their teeth clash. "Wake up, love," he murmurs and Regina's eyes open in confusion, the fullness between her legs registering again. Not a dream. It isn't a dream!

XoXoXo

Robin awakens slowly by degrees, taking in his surroundings. The first thing that registers is the warm weight across his body, and he turns his head to take the first real breath of Regina he's had in over ten days. He almost moans from the delicious scent. The woman is ambrosia, he thinks. He nuzzles her neck, that sweet hollow he loves so much, and his eyes are drawn to her face, which is not relaxed in sleep. Well she is clearly still sleeping, but her breath is short and shallow and he can feel her heart pounding, her eyes are moving beneath their lids, and he can make out the smallest whimpers issuing from her lush mouth.

She's lying next to him, and he vaguely remembers not being able to seal the deal last night, or maybe it was this afternoon? He can't really tell because it's dark and he can't see where the alarm clock is with its red numbers signifying the time. But really, what does the time matter, when the love of his life is next to him? He hears her curse him _son of a bitch_ and the next moan is louder, huskier, and he feels her legs shifting next to him, and the musky scent of her desire overpowers his nose.

His merry man is awake within moments and Robin leans over Regina, kisses her lips, and it's like she's expecting it, hungry for it, because she parts right away and he's in. Lowering his hips, settling himself, Robin rocks teasingly against her and his reasons are two-fold, to make sure she's ready for him (and boy, is she ever) and the second is to slick himself up, before he pushes himself inside slowly, allowing her body to adjust. He hears a hissed "yes" issue from her lips before slender arms come up to tangle in his hair, or attempt to. He removes them and pins her hands to the pillow, restricting movement. He's done it before once, tentatively, and she'd turned wild beneath him.

Tonight's not any different and he can feel her hips bucking in her sleep and that lower lip of hers is getting bit hard by her sharp teeth and he leans in, kisses her persuasively, and takes possession of that lower lip when she lets go. "Wake up, love," he murmurs and watches as her eyes open foggily, confused and hopeful, then clear, registering their positions and just what's between her legs. He pushes in at that moment, ending on a wickedly tight little rotation against her mons, compressing her clit, and watches as her eyes droop and her mouth drops open, affording him a peak at the pink tongue inside.

"It's not a dream!" she exclaims and he chuckles.

"Told you I'd make it up to you." It's intimate because he's pressed his lips against hers as he says the words, watches her eyes for that shocked jolt of pleasure every time he advances, but soon there's no more talking, only the sounds of their skin slapping wetly, breaths coming fast and hard, and he's so hard. He's so close.

XoXoXo

"Don't you dare come yet!" Regina commands, watching his eyes, the glazed look starting to come into them. Damn it she's earned this! "Faster, Robin. Harder. Give me more," and urges him on by grasping his ass, pulling him into her and he doubles the pace, shifts and changes the angle and whereas before it had been pleasurable and delicious, now she could feel those electric tingles zipping through her with every push of himself against her on the inside. He's found _that spot_ inside that could make her cry in pleasure and he pounds it over and over and over, and sweat drips down from him to her and burns her eyes, but fucked if she cares because he's hitting it just right and she's almost there, almost there, almost there, reaching, reaching, reaching, and the sudden pinch of his thumb and forefinger against her clit combined with the repetitive pounding against her G-spot sending her hurling into the stratosphere. She comes and comes and comes and Regina's not sure which way is up or down, but she doesn't care because he just made her come harder than any other time. She's not sure if it's because they've been apart for some time, or the delayed gratification, the sexual torture she'd endured at his hands as a result of the _cold _or because he is just that good. (He is, by the way, he is THAT GOOD!) She's vaguely aware of him coming, but after the last several hours of no orgasm, she is entitled to be a bit selfish.

It takes her minutes to come down, her heart to begin to slow it's pace, and she's registered finally that he's collapsed against her, this time both of them wallowing in the aftermath of complete and total satisfaction, and her hand disentangles itself with his and combs through the sweaty, wet strands of his hair at the nape, finger scraping gently. She feels him shiver against her, his head laying between her breasts, gentle exhales teasing the still-sensitive tips, coaxing them to stay diamond-bright. His tongue comes out and gently licks against the one in front of him, and she cringes slightly.

"Too sensitive?" he asks in concern.

"Mmmmhmmm," she murmurs without words. How does he have capacity for speech anyway? She's lost all cognitive function. Long minutes pass before her brain is firing on some cylinders again. "Feeling better, I see."

She feels more than sees the wince. "Yes, and thank you for taking care of me, though I seem to recall quite fuzzily I did not do the same for you."

"Yes, well, next time, Robin, let me know ahead of time you're not feeling well so I don't expect a Welcome Home instead of…well you get the point. However, I wouldn't mind being woken to that again," and she raises a leg to nudge teasingly at his slick length, still slightly swollen against her. She feels his interest rise before Robin raises his head to look at her, intent in his gaze, banked hunger in their depths.

"Yes, ma'am. And speaking of, ready for Round Two?" he asks, a boyish, but entirely rakish smile crossing his face.

Her expression is all the answer he apparently needs as he rears up and begins to pepper kisses across her body, both arousing and teasing, but hits a particularly ticklish spot that prompts a very unqueenlylike shriek that stops him for a second. But only for a second, because regardless of her fervently expressed objections, the moment he realizes she's ticklish, the game is _on._

_Fin_


End file.
